"Where am I? Are u god? No that doesn't make any sense... Atheist, no god..." I shook my head. The man who called himself Warden pulled me up. I stumbled around for a moment, the room was spinning rapidly. Definitely a concussion, probably mild. Maybe that's what this was! A head trauma induced coma in which I'm dreaming! That makes a little meer sense. 

Oh god... I'll loose my job over this I'm sure. Not to mention my mom will kill me. The last time I scared her she whipped me with her belt. I still have the scars. 
"I can assure you," Warden dawned an evil smile. "There's no God here." ...

"A meat shield?" I asked, glancing at Alice who had the twins in a choke hold. She seemed to be oblivious to the Warden's comment. 
"Isn't that lovely? Now come on, I'll give u the grand Superjail tour!" he cooed. Warden hooked his arm into mine and spun around. 

He snapped his fingers and the tombstone shaped robot came bursting through the wall. 
"First of all, this is Jailbot!" he grinned. Jailbot made a beeping sound and opened up it's chest. A small cup of soft serve ice cream was violently shot at me. 

"Holy shit man!" I shouted, ducking instantly. The cup of partially frozen dairy...

The sound of helicopters bursting out over the foliage echoed in a muscled green bear's ears. The swish of air that followed their arrival made his dog tags jingle lightly. He stooped down low, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, and took off on all fours.

 His camouflage jas rustled as he tore through the jungle. The helicopters touched down only to be surrounded door angry soldiers. Within moments, they were all dead. Entrails were strewn across the ground, splattering the green gras with scarlet blood. 

The little green beer eagerly reached out towards one of the choppers. 
"Nice killing...

My name is Pixel Donnathan. I know what you're thinking, Pixel isn't really a name. But it's wasn't really like I had a choice. Plus, my parents were drunk off their asses when they named me. My mom died shortly after my birth, actually. I guess morphine, alcohol, and psychical labor don't mix too well. But that's beside the point. 

My dad's name is Robert and my mom's name was Carry. Not spelt correctly but Carry as in I'll carry u up the street. Also not a very good name. 

I quickly shook the thoughts of my parents out of my head and continued down the street. It was summer in Florida and...